


Thorns Before the Rose

by NattRavnen



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NattRavnen/pseuds/NattRavnen
Summary: After a brutal attack, Ciri is alone to shoulder a wounded and dying Geralt. Fighting to survive long enough to find help, Ciri comes across a dangerous stranger and pleads for her help.Geralts recovery is long and arduous, and with little else for Ciri to do, she makes it her mission to break down the barriers of their new mysterious friend and prove to Geralt there's more to her cold heart than meets the eye.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not particularly sure how long this will run, but it doesn't have a very complicated plot. Wanted some reluctant fluff between Geralt and Reader, but thought it may also be interesting to explore a platonic relationship between Reader and young Ciri. I've written a few oneshots in the past on tumblr, but never committed to a short series--- here goes nothing! Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> I've watched the series and played the third game (on my second playthrough, I can't put it down haha) and am slowly making my way through the first book. This fic takes place after the first season with my vague knowledge of Ciri's path after that from what I've discovered in the game-- a long winded way of saying I'm probably not sticking very close to the material, apologies if some of it doesn't line up :P
> 
> Rated for mature content that'll likely come later, it's a bit of a slow burn with a focus on the reader and ciri's relationship at first. Nlah blah blah I'm done, please enjoy!

“Come on Geralt, keep going.” Ciri urged as she trampled through the forest ahead of him and Roach, her voice no louder than a whisper as she gasped for air. Her feet ached inside her worn shoes and her heart thrummed fearfully against her ribs but she couldn’t stop now, not while her Witcher was injured.

“Geralt?” She called back, realizing he hadn’t answered. He looked awful, swaying on his feet as he attempted to keep up with her short but quick strides. “Geralt?” she asked again, and felt a small insignificant wave of relief at his grunt of a reply. 

“We’re almost there, we’re almost there, keep going, come on Geralt.” Ciri repeated, the mantra propelling her feet when sheer will no longer could.

A large thump made her jump and a chill rushed up her spine for she knew well enough what made that sound, “No no no no…” She spun and fell to her knees at his side, trembling as she tried to lock eyes with him but he seemed so distant as he blinked in and out.

“Geralt please you must keep going!”

He hummed, swallowing thickly in desperate need for water. Ciri plucked delicately at his shirt, raising it to see the horrid wound beneath. It was once a ferocious bite that now turned even more grotesque by the passing day. His blood dried in spots, congealed in others and ran like rain where it could. Despite the severe dehydration Ciri wept again for her friend as she grasped for his hand to hold in hers. She squeezed and waited eagerly for him to squeeze back as he always had but this time there was nothing. 

“Geralt no no no…” she wept harder, burying her face into his salt dried shirt that he had stopped sweating in a day ago, “This is all my fault,” She whispered softly. 

He hummed a little, his eyes opening and searching but never seeing her as she tried desperately to bring him back to her, “I don’t know what to do, please tell me what to do!”

And as quickly as they appeared her tears left and sheer adrenalin took its place. She would not weep for him anymore, she would not give up on him ever, she would save him and she had to do it quickly. She sat back and listened, closing her eyes and fighting against the desperate thrumming of her heart to hear anything-- anything at all that could aid them. A stream, a town, an animal to follow, anything. 

“Come on… come on…” She whispered, shaking the nerves from her hands that ached from the fists she clenched. 

And there… through the thick silence a sound broke, a sniffing much like… “A dog.” She gasped and squeezed Geralt's hand once more, “Hold on Geralt, I’m going to find help, I promise, just hold on!” her eyes flicked to Roaches and she pleaded, “Stay with him.”

Her breathing was ragged now, each intake of air painfully escaping like a choked sob as she fought against the pain in her feet and the fear in her heart. _What if it’s a wolf? A rabid dog? What if I scare it off? Wait… how will I find my way back? What if I get lost?_

_What if I return and he’s already dead? Being torn apart by the very ghouls that brought this on in the first place...that I brought on in the first place._

Her thoughts, as awful and consuming as they were becoming, were quickly silenced by movement just out of the corner of her eye. There, sniffing curiously through the bushes was what looked like a wolf both in size and pattern. Ciri gasped despite herself and the animal turned to her immediately, it’s gaze lowering in defense. 

_Of course I’d find a damn wolf. This is where I die isn’t it? A silly girl mauled to death a mile out from her guardian. Doomed from the start._

As she hesitated in anxious thought, she was shocked to see it sit back and watch her in return, it’s tongue hanging out playfully. 

“A-are you… friendly?” She asked, and though her frame was small she hunched over and squatted at the knees to seem as unassuming as possible. The wolf stood back up and approached curiously and Ciri froze, fighting all urge and training that screamed at her to run for her life. 

It came closer, sniffing eagerly at her fingers and she cursed internally for having failed to notice they were covered in the witcher's blood. “My friend. He’s hurt.”

The wolf looked to her and she swore she saw an understanding there, or perhaps it was entirely wishful thinking. “I need your help… please.”

A soft sound escaped the animal as it turned back around and began to walk away looking back only once to see if she would follow. Ciri’s whole body relaxed for a moment and she graciously followed, praying to whatever Gods could hear that this was not a mistake. She trudged onward, trembling from exhaustion and doing anything and everything to focus on moving forward, only moving forward. The sun pierced through the canopy like arrows burning her skin with its sweltering heat on contact. Thoughts of ice water pouring over her head began to feel so real that she noticed she was shivering. That can’t… be good…

“Where are you taking me?” She sighed but the wolf continued onward. Ciri was so focused on trudging along, staying awake, that she had failed to notice the underbrush separating to reveal a fairly well trodden path beneath her feet. Beyond the birds chirping and the eager panting of the wolf she began to hear small sounds; a fire, movement, humming.

As she fought against the fog of her brain to connect the dots the wolf peered over its shoulder and barked for her to follow as it quickened it’s pace. Just a few stuttered steps brought a small cottage into view, smoke billowing enticingly out of the quaint chimney and a shadow beyond the window-- someone was inside.

“Help..” Ciri whispered trying desperately to quicken her awkward pace, “Help.. please” her voice grew stronger, “Please!” She reached the door and sighed heavily at the effort it took to raise her hand to its wooden front. She managed only one knock when the door swung open harshly and amber cat eyes pierced through her from the other side. A shiver ran down the girl's spine as her stomach sank to her feet at the cold blooded stare that hungrily bore into her soul and she wondered… _have I traded one evil for another?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, a quick little taste of what's to come. Next chapter will be longer, I promise!


	2. Chapter 2

“What the hell do you want?” Her voice snapped from beyond the threshold and the girl gasped at the sudden sound.

“Please, my friend is hurt, I need help.”

“Not my problem.” 

The young girl tried hard to see the woman in shadow, but all that she could make out were her eyes, scrutinizing and unfriendly. The wolf yipped at Ciri’s side and the woman sucked in a breath, “Oh shut up, what do you know.”

“Please, he’s dying!” She almost reached out to grasp at the woman but her hands returned to her sides as quickly as they left.

“There’s a town down the road, the beast can take you.” The woman moved to shut the door and with the last ounce of strength Ciri had left she stepped in and shoved it back, “He’s a Witcher, just like  _ you _ . You  _ will  _ help us.”

The woman looked at her with a little bit of awe, but mostly venom as she stepped into the girl so fast Ciri couldn’t help but stumble back with a gasp. And if she wasn’t already shocked by the sudden movement, she would've been aghast by the sight of her. 

She stood not much larger than Ciri in stature but the presence she commanded made her feel giant. She rose in intimidation, and her eyes gleamed that much brighter in the sun. Once or twice Geralt had hinted at the fear a Witcher strikes in common folk and Ciri balked at the idea, only ever having seen a warmth behind his eyes, but now she could feel it. Her face was nearly rid of scars, unlike most Witchers, save for the white line through the bottom of her lip but Ciri’s eyes were more compelled by the horrible gnawed mark that ran along the side of her neck. Her eyes fused to the offending wound for a beat too long and she regretted it the moment she heard the click of the Witcher's tongue against her teeth. Immediately her eyes met amber again, and she focused hard not to leave them. 

Before the woman could chew her up with her words or fists the wolf barked again and this time began pulling at the woman's cloak. “Are you mad?!” The woman growled as she pulled the fabric from it’s teeth. 

“I won’t leave until you help me.” Ciri stood strong, her voice as firm as she could muster, though she felt the familiar itch up her throat of scream waiting to be unleashed. It dissipated under the woman's narrowed cat like pupils, the iris swallowing her courage whole.

She could see it, the ideas floating behind her eyes, her hands beginning to ring out the edges of her cloak, a glimmer of hope, “Fine… I’ll.. I’ll help.” she muttered with a sigh. “You and the wolf will lead me.”

Ciri jumped a little with excitement, her stone cold expression softening instantly, “Thank you, thank you, truly, thank--” She almost leaned in to hug the woman but froze under the weight of her glare.

“Who _ are _ you?”

Ciri gulped, flashes of novigardians hunting mere feet from her hidden and quaking body tormented her mind before she chanced a reply, “Ciri.” She waited, with bated breath for the woman to show any sign of recognition but none came. “And you?”

“Y/N. But you best forget it as fast as you heard it.”

Ciri nodded, she hoped Y/N would do the same for her as well. It was quiet for a moment, awkwardly so, until Ciri cleared her throat, “Could…”

The woman softened with apathy and grumbled, “What is it?”

“Could I have some water?”

The woman nodded her head in annoyance and gazed beyond the girl. Ciri followed her line of sight to a well a short ways in the distance, “Thank you!”

“Don’t be long.”

She barely had time to enjoy the wonderful taste of the cold spring before she was scampering back to the cottage with renewed energy. She could’ve sworn the woman smirked at her as she commented, “Well, don’t you look better already. Alright Ciri, lead the way.” the Witcher jumped upon her horse and held out a small hand to the girl. The princess’s eyes trailed to the back of the horse where a sling was tied, no doubt to carry the body of Geralt-- she gulped,  _ alive… carry him alive. _ Graciously she took the outstretched hand and was mildly surprised by the strength that hoisted her upon the horse.

“Cujo.” The woman called, and the wolf nodded it’s head before taking off into the woods, leading with its nose. Ciri clung to Y/N as her eyes grew wide, darting here and there for any glimpse of Roach and the Witcher as she offered, “I left him with the horse.” 

For a while it seemed as though they were travelling in circles. The same trees, the same crow squawking infuriatingly from its perch, the same log that they barrelled over moments before. The Witcher could feel the girls hands loosening around her waist and despite her apathy she asked, “What happened?”

The girl gulped back a small sob, “It was all my fault.”

“Not what I asked of you.”

She nodded and let go one hand to wipe the tears from her pale eyes, “We were on the road for something important, when we found an old battle ground. A man was trying to clear the bodies and my friend had chosen to leave but I begged him to help the man. He told me it was foolish, too many corpses, ghouls should’ve been all over it already but I pleaded anyway. We went back, and just in time to as ghouls came up from the ground. I was to stay by his horse as he fought but I saw a chance to pull the man to safety, or so I thought. A ghoul was on me in an instant and Geralt, he…”

“So he’s been poisoned.”

“Y-yes. I haven’t learned how to stop that yet. I should’ve read those books-- I should’ve listened when Vesemir said--”

Y/N pulled the reins and the horse came to a startling halt. She looked over her shoulder at the girl with concern, “You’re training to be a Witcher?”

“Well… not exactly… sort of… I shouldn’t have said--”

“Quiet.” the woman shushed and turned back to the trees, scanning intently until a howl met their ears, “He found him.”

Ciri’s chest clenched and her stomach dropped to her knees,  _ please be alive Geralt, please! _

There he was, right where she left him in the dirt. He hadn’t moved a muscle, and from her perch on the horse she couldn’t tell if he was breathing. She wished to run to his side but the fear of the truth held her back, so instead she hopped off the horse and ran to Roach. The poor horse was jumping back from the wolf in fear and desperation so Ciri offered some kind words and a delicate touch to calm her down. Though she wished not to, she glanced towards Y/N and watched nervously as she knelt by Geralt's side.

“Geralt?” Y/N asked, looking to Ciri for confirmation and the girl nodded curtly. “Geralt can you hear me?” He didn’t stir.

She bent down further, resting an ear to his chest as she hovered a hand over his mouth. Ciri held her breath for what felt like an eternity.

“He’s alive. Barely.” the woman sat back and pulled delicately at the corner of his shirt, “Shit. You poor bastard…”

“There’s another wound, his leg…” the girl pointed a trembling finger to the blood-soaked linen of his pant leg.

Y/N nodded and pulled back the gnarled fabric to see the horrid bite beneath, “Anymore?”

“I’m… I’m not sure.”

“Alright.” Y/N nodded and sat back on her haunches with a sigh, “I’m sorry to say you’re going to live through this.”

“He will?” Ciri whispered, shocked by her own surprise, she hadn’t realized how much her hope had truly drained. 

“Unfortunately for him, yes. Come, hold these for me.” 

Ciri raced to his side and pulled his shirt from her hands. The Witcher fiddled with a bag on her hip, returning with a vile in hand. “Ciri, this isn’t going to be pretty, but I need your strength, hold him down with me… he’s going to hate this more than we will.” The ashen haired girl nodded, her wide eyes intent on taking in every detail, “I’m ready.”

The woman nodded in return, her eyes trailed towards the wound, noticing briefly along their path how the girl's small hand as it found its way into his. With a twist of her wrist the liquid poured into the wound and Geralt shook with a start. Ciri tried hard to hold him steady but he was far too strong even at death's door and she struggled to gain control. Y/N reacted, swiftly straddling his body to use her own weight to hold him down, keeping a hand over his wound to trap the anti-venom inside. His eyes shot open and locked immediately with her own, staring her down with anger, spit flying through gritted teeth as he growled and grunted in pain. It threw her off a little, seeing the same amber staring back and she nearly lost control over him before he finally relented, passing out from sheer pain.

“Fuck.” she sighed, sitting back onto his lap, “You could’ve warned me he wasn’t the runt of the litter.”

Ciri couldn’t help but smile a little, “He’ll be ok?”

“He needs attention, a lot of it, but we got here in time.” she spoke swiftly, climbing off of him to pour the last bit in his leg wound, “Come now, help me load him up and I’ll take you to the nearest town,--”

“No!” Ciri shouted, jumping to her feet, “We can’t.”

The trees trembled around them and birds took flight. Y/N watched with curiosity and balked “Excuse me?” 

“We can’t… it’s not safe.”

She laughed though there was no humour in her eyes, “So what? I should just take you to my home then? What am I, healer and mother now?”

Ciri trembled, her hands twisting and fiddling nervously with her cloak, “I’ll cook, I’ll clean, I’ll work, I’ll do whatever you ask, just please… no one else can know.”

“And coin? What of it?”

“We can pay you, I promise.”

She shrunk under the woman's hungry gaze, feeling like fresh meat in a circle of ghouls all over again until cujo barked and the volatility drained from the air like electricity. “Fine.”

“Thank… you” Ciri whispered.

“Don’t thank me, thank Cujo. The moment your friend feels better, or the moment trouble finds its way to my door looking for you, you’re both gone. Understood?”

Ciri nodded, her eyes resting on the dried blood on her fingers. 

“Now help me with his body.”

The trip back was slower as they carefully chose a softer path for Geralt as he lay unconscious in the sling. For the first time in what felt like forever, Ciri relaxed. Her shoulders dropped from their tense perch at her ears, her eyes fell in exhaustion and her hands barely held onto Y/N’s waist as all stress deflated from her small frame. It wasn’t long before she drifted off, resting her pale face against the woman's back without request. She missed the sharp intake and cluck of the Witcher's tongue as she stiffened with the girl's unwanted touch.

When they arrived Ciri barely held it together as she descended awkwardly from the horse and approached Geralt's side. She gathered his feet as Y/N grabbed him firmly under his arms and hoisted him towards the house, “Cujo. Door. Now.” 

The wolf obliged, trotting to the door and pushing it open as they clamored inelegantly over the threshold. With a few remarks on direction, Y/N guided them through her house to a small room with a large bed. With difficulty they lowered him down, “What next?” Ciri asked. 

“Water, there’s some back in the kitchen. In one of the cabinets are linens, bring some of those too, and on the table should be a pair of shears. Oh and the bottle of Dwarven Spirits, bright green, on the shelf.”

The girl nodded and left the room.

Y/N sighed in her absence, taking her first moment to herself. She hated this, every bit of it, it went against every fiber of her being and yet here she was  _ helping people _ , the thought alone was revolting. A shine of silver caught her eye and her fingers slipped delicately into the collar of his shirt to pluck the necklace from beneath. In her hands she held his medallion and whispered to herself, “School of the wolf eh?”

The girl returned and she quickly dropped the necklace from her grasp, both mildly annoyed and impressed at her swiftness. “You can leave the rest to me. There’s bread back in the kitchen, eat some and wash up, there’s some bath water in the room behind the hearth from this morning-- though it’ll surely be cold now.” Ciri nodded and trudged out quietly, a child clearly driven by hunger and fear alone. 

She pulled the shirt from his chest and began cutting it apart, trying to be gentle as she gathered it out from under him, as gentle as she knew how. Her cat eyes barely noticed the vast number of scars that mapped across his torso, for it was nothing new to someone like her. Cold fingers trembled as she delicately poked around the edges of the wound, watching to see what reaction his body would have, but it was too hard to see without cleaning the wound.

The basin sat on the floor beside her as she knelt down to the miserable opening with a soaked cloth in hand, “You’re going to hate this too.” She whispered and began dabbing at the wound. He stirred a few times as she poked, prodded and cleaned at the mess before her. An hour passed and his wounds were cleaned and wrapped. Thankfully she found no other wounds in her search.

He looked better, though still grey with malaise, and she made note that he’d need a proper bath when he was able. Sweat dewed on her brow as she gathered the now dark red basin from the floor. “I’ll bring you some water, rest.” she spoke, although she was sure he was a million miles from this plane of existence. 

In the kitchen Ciri slept, curled up in a large chair near the window, as far from the fire as she could. Making a mental note to check on the girl's health as well, Y/N busied herself by cleaning the tools used and found herself a waterskin to fill with the bucket of a cold spring. She plunged it beneath the surface of the ice cold water and watched as bubbles danced on the surface as the sack filled in her hands. The shock of the temperature struck her nerves and fleeting anxious thoughts took the opportunity to plague her mind.  _ What am I doing? Welcoming strangers into my home? What would happen when the Witcher finally awoke and saw me for what I am? _

_ He won’t wake, not without water, _ and she reluctantly returned to his side. Propping him up as best she could, she sat close to him and clutched at his strong jaw, pulling gently until his mouth fell open. She held her breath as she pressed the opening of the waterskin to his mouth and raised it slowly to his rough lips. A trickle slipped out and down his chin but most made it in. She stopped after a little, careful not to over do it and drown the poor man. With the back of her hand she softly wiped at his chin. She hadn’t noticed it before, the familiar musk that came off his skin, smelling of open road, leather and beast. She could almost see the campsite when she closed her eyes, the crackling fire and the large pillow that was his horse. It had been a very long time since she had led a life like that, and her heart panged with deep nostalgia. He stirred a little, nuzzling slightly into the back of her hand that still rested against his chin. She jerked away from the warmth of his skin, and grumbled at the heat that flushed her cheeks. Now seemed like the perfect time to check on the girl.

She was still fast asleep, albeit now awkwardly curled up into the chair. From a quick glance Y/N could see she had washed up as best she could, though likely frantically. A hot bath would come in time. She swept a hand over the girl's brow, happy to see her temperature was normal and she was at least sweating unlike her dehydrated guardian. She’d recover with a proper meal and water but for tonight all that was left was rest. 

With a gentleness she wasn’t quite sure she even had, she gathered the girl up from the chair despite the cries of indignation from her sore muscles and brought her to a smaller bed in a spare room. Like a child, she indignantly wished to sleep in her own bed but none were left. Reluctantly she gathered a blanket from a chest at the end of the bed and an extra pillow and trudged back into her bedroom, where the Witcher had yet to budge. 

She made a bed on the floor she’d regret the next morning and made way for the kitchen in search of a particular herb. A little something to knock her out, but would raise her in a couple hours time to check on the Witcher throughout the night. With one last once over of her patient, she placed a cold compress to his forehead and slipped him as much water as he could handle. His eyebrows were furrowed in distress and she pondered smoothing it out with her hands. “Oh to have another wolf in my home. Bane of my existence.” 

Y/N didn’t need to look to know Cujo was watching disapprovingly from the doorway, but she couldn’t stifle a chuckle when he softly sighed at her remark. “Are you staying?” she asked. His nails clicked against the wood until he plopped himself down by her makeshift bed. She sighed in annoyance but smiled nonetheless, “Alright, but just for tonight. But you’ll owe me a hunt tomorrow. Too many mouths to feed now.” 

The wolf whimpered and whined and that was good enough for her. With a last glance over her guest, she slunk to the floor and curled up next to the beast, slipping quickly into sleep by the soft touch of his muzzle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a major focus on Ciri and Reader in the next chapter, but some Geralt good bits coming soon!


	3. Chapter 3

Mornings were always rough. With the sun peeking over the horizon and the air broiling in its early rays, it was the perfect hour to begin work-- and she tackled it with a quiet anger.

Sitting up at first light, she pawed at her face to wipe the clutches of sleep from her lashes. Her back arched, moaning and screeching with each stretch. She froze in place as the floor came into view, her bed nearby, a stranger lying on her covers… the realization of yesterday's events tumbling into place like a brilliant round of Gwent.

“Oh fuck.”

“Good Morning.” Ciri smiled from the doorway, quickly apologizing at making the poor woman jump.

“My fault… I get jumpy sometimes.” It felt like a confession, no matter how small, and Y/N recoiled emotionally at the idea. She rose to her feet, encumbered by sleep and stiff joints. When she patted down her matted skirt she noticed the dried blood that stained the front like a butchers frock, “Shit.”

“Shall I fetch fresh water? Run you a bath? Make breakfast? Redress his bandages?” Ciri eagerly spoke, her eyes darting a little as she mentally combed for more ideas.

Y/N groaned at the barrage, it was too much too quick so early in the morning, “Let’s start with water.”

Ciri smiled and ran eagerly from the door as Y/N called out, “And take Cujo with you!” she glanced down at the wolf, “Watch out for her.” and he happily followed.

Another groan took her by surprise and she turned to see the witcher stir, if only a little. She slipped to his side, “Morning Geralt. Let’s check your temperature.” The cloth on his forehead was dry but the skin below felt good, medium, no longer scorched with fever. “Fevers gone, that’s good Geralt, very good. I’m going to lift you now, and give you some water. This may hurt, bear with me please.”

Carefully she slid her hands under his arms and with as much of her leg strength as she could call upon she hoisted him higher on his pillows against the screaming admonishment of her muscles. She placed the waterskin to his lips again and poured a healthy amount, and he eagerly swallowed though he was still not quite conscious. She prattled on regardless, “Let’s check your dressings.”

Sitting down at his side facing his legs, she delicately plucked at the edges of the bandage, pink with bleedthrough. “You know… not too bad. I’ll have to clean this again, rewrap, but you’re healing quite swiftly.”

As she worked on the wound at his waist, she turned back around to him and continued her one sided conversation. She asked about the girl, what she meant to him, if her eagerness annoyed him as much as it had her. She chastised him for easily falling to a ghoul, and wondered what his school would think of letting something so small best him. She paused, her words stuck in her throat for a moment before she dared to continue, “I can see you’re very dear to her, she’ll be so pleased with how well you’re doing-- which means I’ll have to endure her happiness yet again. It’s unsavoury, all this glee and caring.” she jested, partially, “It’s no good for anyone. You might survive this, but I’ll be dead in a week at this rate--”

She gasped, her mouth falling open at the hand that now grasped hers. A low hum, like stones grinding together, “Stop… talking…”

She balked a little but couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth. His hand lost strength and dropped back to his side as sleep claimed him again. “Never have I ever been told to shut up in my own house. You’re lucky you’re a sleeping Witcher, or I’d let you have it.”

Time seemed to stand still as she watched him with such curiosity. She mapped his features, the scars on his face, his matted hair. He seemed peaceful as he rested and she wondered, from her own experience, how often he had the chance to rest in this lifetime. 

Ciri cleared her throat and Y/N jumped a little at the sound, how a witcher let the girl get the jump on her every time astounded her. “I have fresh water… shall I boil it?”

“No need.” Y/N grabbed the iron pot from the girl's grasp, paying no mind to how little she had filled it, it must’ve been heavy for her small grasp. Placing it on the floor, she laid her hands around its sides and concentrated. Her fingers began to glow red hot, bleeding into the iron surface till the water inside bubbled and frothed. “Still a few tricks up an old cats sleeve.”

\----

It had been ages since Y/N had cared for someone, and though her nerves were wracked with anxiety over the change in her cocoon of a life, she was falling into step easily as the day grew old.

She washed up the witcher, picked food from her garden with Ciri, brushed her horse down while Ciri brushed theirs. Ciri did most of the talking but Y/N was beginning to enjoy the break in years of silence, the delightful trickling stream brought forth from the girl with such passion and curiosity. 

And though much of what the girl was saying seemed but a fragment of the entire painting, she was delighted but what she was allowed to know. Gambling in a courtyard with her young friends, nearly besting them for the first time. Her grandfather's playful nature and warm heart, her grandmother's iron will but gentle touch. She couldn’t help the pain in her heart when Ciri mentioned their passing, it hit close to home, the thought of losing all that you love. It was all too familiar.

“And then I met Geralt, when I needed him most. He took me in, gave me a home… gave me a family.”

“That’s not typical of a witcher.” Y/N spoke matter of factly, as she washed the vegetables in a bucket outside while the girl twirled with a stick as if it were a long sword. 

“I was…” Ciri hesitated, her footwork halted and eyes narrowed as she considered the weight of her words, “I was owed to him, a child of surprise.”

Y/N’s eyes grew a little large at the confession and she quickly wiped her hands down on a towel, “Ciri… what is your relationship with Geralt? To what do you owe?”

Ciri looked a little confused, “Not sure how to describe it really. He protects me, takes care of me, even began teaching me the ways of a witcher-- without the mutations of course. In all honesty… he’s a bit like a father-- especially with all the rules.” She rolled her eyes innocently, and Y/N sat back and let out the air she had been holding.

“Why?” Ciri asked, naively.

“I thought… I thought perhaps you were expected to wed him-- as many young women of surprise do.”

The girls mouth dropped in horror and disgust, “Y/N please, that’s atrocious.”

“Atrocious but not uncommon, unfortunately. I was worried I was healing an awful man in there, and I’d have to kill him while he slept.” she smirked.

Ciri smiled a little at that, and Y/N wondered if the little bird had begun to catch the cats heart. 

“Your footwork is off by the way. It’s also incredibly clunky.”

“What?” Ciri looked down to her feet.

“You move like a 200 lb man with 200 lb armor and a 50 lb sword. Works well for a wolf, less for a bird.” Y/N stood brushing her hands against her linen dress.

Ciri’s eyes lit up like they were alight with a glimmer of mischievous chaos, “Would you teach me?”

Y/N snorted, “Not sure your wolves would like a cat disrupting the pack.”

“You keep saying that, but I know not what you mean.”

“I’m from the school of the cat.”

Ciri flushed a little in the hot sun, “I confess I don’t know much of other schools, though I read some…”

Y/N nodded in understanding, “I bet the chapter on the cat was quite the bloody addition to your reading.” She made to leave for the cottage with her basket of vegetables but froze when the girl's hands gripped her sleeve.

“Oh please please please, I’d love for you to teach me! Everything you could, even the darkest parts, I want to know it all.”

And Y/N could see it, the depth of curiosity that knew no end in the brilliant green of her eyes, how cat-like already. She couldn’t help it, the passion that flowed from a young girl's naivety caught her in it’s torrent and she realized she wanted nothing better than to be whisked away, back to a time and place that seemed but a lifetime ago, “Alright.” she grinned, “Wash up, while I change and gather what I have. I’ll meet you outside.”

\----

Ciri was beginning to regret her choice as she sat on a stone in the yard, baking under the afternoon sun. She pulled at the long grass around her and then pulled that into smaller pieces, dissecting it by it’s spine, sometimes by its edges with faint curiosity. 

Finally Y/N came out from behind the cottage with two swords in hand. Her outfit had been changed and it made Ciri blush a little. She wore pants, tight and tied at her hips, and a sleeveless linen shirt but what was shocking to her eyes was the tapestry of tattoos down her arms. It was a sight Ciri had never bore, especially not of a woman and she felt a little ashamed by her noble naivety.

“Here!” Y/N called and chucked one of the swords in Ciri’s direction. The girl caught it and brought it up close to her face, curious of the thin blade in her hands, “What is this?”

“A sword. Have they taught you nothing?” Y/N laughed dryly.

“But it’s so… so small and light, and thin. Like a needle.”

“Precisely. It’s a small rapier, my weapon of choice. I couldn’t bother with the theatrics of a longsword.” She shrugged and then nimbly tossed the sword in hand into the sky, twirling on her light feet before catching it back in her hand as if it were an apple. 

“Couldn’t bother with the theatrics?” Ciri smirked and Y/N grinned coyly, “Alright, on your feet, let’s go.”

“We’ll start with a simple back and forth. Get used to the blade, the weight, the length, the feel. It’s going to become an extension of your arm. Aaaand one.” Y/N stepped forward and swiped, meeting Ciri’s needled blade at the horizon between them.

“Two.” Y/N nodded and stepped back, as Ciri stepped into her space and met her again in the middle, blade to blade. 

“Good. Now watch my eyes little bird, not my blade. To anticipate what I’ll do next, you must watch me.”

They danced back and forth, blades meeting lightly in between like a needle pointed handshake. She reminded the girl to breathe as they fell into a repetition of movements, a calculated waltz. 

“Let’s make this a little more complicated.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, already tight and strained from exertion of muscles that haven’t been used in a dog's age.

“I step in.” She moved and they’re swords clanked. “I step in again.” She moved forward and Ciri moved back just as swiftly.

“Now you step in.” Ciri nodded and stepped forward, pushing Y/N back a step. “And I step in again.” they moved in unison.

“Now reverse. You step in, like that, good, and again. Now I step in, good, and back towards me. Exactly. And again from the top… I step in…” 

Though the training hadn’t been extravagant Ciri was over the moon with excitement and exhaustion when they rested in the shade hours later. “I should’ve had Cujo bring back an extra rabbit, we’re going to need more meat at this rate. I hadn’t planned on training you.”

Ciri shrugged as she caught her breath, chugging water in between gasps, “No no, it’s alright. I’ll take whatever I can get. And if you need, I can hunt for you too-- I know some’.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, impressed in the same way a mother is when her child claims to run faster than a panther. “I don’t doubt that, but we’ll need all the time we can get for training. We’ll start at first light tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Ciri’s smile grew and grew and Y/N shrunk a little under the weight of it. Her heart swelled with a pride she hadn’t felt in ages and with it came the anxiety of change. Ciri hadn’t noticed her falter in the slightest, “While we rest, tell me about the school of the cat.”

“Well what do you know already?”

“Hmm.. I believe I read that your mutations are different-- the process is different? Most witchers suppress emotions but cats enhance them?”

“It wasn’t always that way.” Y/N fell to the grass by Ciri’s side, leaning back on her tired arms, “We used to do the same, until someone discovered a way to change the mutation, increase our emotions. It was supposed to improve us, but it was part of our downfall.”

“How so?”

Y/N grew pensive, staring off into the sunset as it scorched the tops of the forest in a brilliant gold edge, “You see… we busied ourselves less with monsters and more with the trouble of man. We became assassins for hire. Killing whatever we wanted as long as the coin was involved, no matter the cost to our morals. And fueled by a hunger we could never quench. When you take a man's life… it defines you Ciri. Defines who you are, what you are, when you walk away from it all. No matter how much honor you think is involved, no matter the danger you may have been in, it forever changes you. I can’t begin to describe the feeling in depth but it is like an anchor that holds you to morality or ruin.”

“I think I know…” Ciri whispered and her eyes fell to her hands. Y/N nodded in understanding, “I thought you might.”

“Now imagine those feelings, imagine the weight of it, the look of it, and multiply that by a hundred more. You can imagine the bloodlust and hunger we faced. The flames of arrogance stoked by the admonishment of others for our actions. Where we could’ve risen to honor we fell disgraced, enjoying the lives we took, the power we had, the money we gained. It took me a long time to wake up from that, to claw my way back inside and pull myself out from the rubble.”

Ciri placed a hand on Y/N’s knee and watched as the woman tensed before her, “You’re a good person.”

Y/N laughed humorously, “I wasn’t, but I changed, I had help. I’ll never forget that. Now then, get up, we have at least an hour left of training.”

\---

They both wanted nothing more than to crash to the floor by the fire but dinner had to be made, Geralt needed some tending to and a bath still had to be filled for both of them later. Life should’ve been easier with more hands, but it only created more work and Y/N felt tired by it all.

“I’ll mind the stew over the fire, if you would bring Geralt some water, check his bandages and for fever?”

“Of course.” Ciri gladly accepted and brought fresh linens with her to the back room where he slept. 

She closed the door behind her and crept towards the side of the bed. With a little embarrassment she glanced over her shoulder again as if her eyes could tell her whether or not Y/N could hear. It didn’t matter, she continued anyway, “Geralt, you would not believe the day I had!” she whispered loudly.

She pulled the dry cloth away from his forehead and swept it into the basin of fresh cold water, careful to rest her wrist against his skin to check his temperature. “Y/N has begun teaching me to fight-- by way of the cat! It’s so different yet so similar Geralt, do you know of it?” She asked rhetorically as he slept. 

“Her sword is different, so light yet so sharp. I feel like I am able to move so much more swiftly. Oh I wish you’d wake to see it, I think you’d really like--”

“Hmm… Ciri…” Geralt began to stir and Ciri lit up with quiet excitement, “Oh Geralt you’re awake! Careful, don’t move too much, you’re healing but it’s not quite there.”

“Where are we?” He grumbled through the fog of sleep. 

“A cottage in the woods, not far from where you fell… I think close to Brunwich actually, though I haven’t asked.”

Geralt's eyes grew a little as he struggled to sit up despite Ciri asking him repeatedly to take it slow, “Ask who?”

“Y/N, the woman who helped us. She took us in and has been caring for you for a couple days now. It was fate, truly, she too is a witcher and knew exactly what to do to help!”

“A witcher?” Geralt's brow furrowed, sweat began to dew on his skin from the strain of sitting up. 

“Yes!” Ciri exclaimed frantically, sitting even closer to Geralt now, “She’s from school of the cat, she’s agreed to train me-- can you believe it? Oh Geralt I’m going to learn so much, she moves so different from you, Eskel, even Lambert! Uncle Vesemir probably wouldn’t like the lack of studying, but I have a lifetime to read books.”

She stopped her rambling when she realized Geralt's expression didn’t exude even a crumb of happiness but instead dripped of disdain, “what is it?”

“What does she want for all this?”

“Nothing.” Ciri bristled.

“Bullshit.” Geralt murmured, breathing heavily through the pain. 

“Fine, I promised her a coin.” Ciri hated the way those words felt in her mouth.

“How much?”

“I don’t know, we didn’t talk about it. I promised her I’d help around as well and I have been-- I swear.”

“Fuck.” Geralt groaned, straining again to sit better.

“Stop it.” Ciri uttered, tears studding her eyelashes like dew, “I know what you’re doing. You’re measuring your strength, planning our exit.”

Geralt returned his gaze to hers, “Naturally.”

“We’re staying until you’re well.”

“I’m fine.” he seethed through gritted teeth.

“Oh fuck off.” Ciri spat and Geralt was shocked by the small outburst. What was once a child in his eyes began to look like a rebellious young woman and he wondered just what else she learned in the past few days.

He couldn’t help it, the pain and rage blinding his ability to think before he spoke, “Does she know who you are? Does she know what blood flows in your veins? The crown that sits atop your head? Does she know what you can do?”

Ciri flinched back, moving further away on the bed, “Of course not.”

“Cats are smart Ciri, intelligent backstabbers so hungry for coins that they will kill child, mother and queen for whatever scraps they can get.”

“Stop it.” Ciri whispered, standing now, her hands clenched tightly in her apron as hot searing tears began to draw rivers down her flushed face.

“I’m not trying to hurt you Ciri, but I need to protect you. She can’t be trusted, and the sooner we can leave the better, before she’s calculated just how much you’re worth.”

“I said stop it. I’ve heard enough.” Ciri wiped away at her eyes but only more tears fell, “She’s not like that, I know her--”

Geralt hissed against the pain of his side as his legs hit the floor, “You’ve only just met her. She’s been in this game for years before you were born. Hell, she likely set that trap of ghouls, luring passersby to a horrible scene before meeting a shite end with a few crowns in their pockets. She’s only kept us alive to bleed us dry of more coins later.” He’d been so focused on getting his feet to the floor and his body seated and ready to stand that he hadn’t noticed the anger building in Ciri. 

“I… said... stop… it.” Her fists shook with a power she was struggling to hold back as it surged against the walls of her mind. Before he could utter another word she stormed out of his room.

She paused for a moment in the kitchen, noticing Y/N silently sitting at the dining room table, before she continued out the door, wrought with embarrassment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally, the fluff and tension has arrived! I spent too much time analyzing this, to the point that I’m not entirely happy with it. I hope you have a better experience reading it! Although I’ve certainly declared a gender for the reader throughout the series I’ve tried my best to not overtly describe her appearance so that anyone could feel represented. In this chapter I do describe her form a little more, but in respect to being a Witcher only. I hope that I haven’t overdone it and made any potential readers feel excluded!

Y/N didn’t move at first, sitting calmly at the table as she picked at her bowl of stew. Two choices lay before her, the bird and the wolf, and neither seemed all that enticing. Making up her mind, she got to her feet and walked to the threshold of the back room, leaning indifferently against the frame, “Teenagers, am I right?”

Geralt stared her down, though she noticed a moment where he faltered at the mere sight of her. She took that as her chance. 

“Nice of you to finally join us Geralt. I’m Y/N. My voice may be familiar, I’ve been talking to you for a little while now.” She paused and he watched her silently, a beat too long, and eventually she let out a breathy chuckle, “Looks like you make as good a conversation awake as you do sleeping.”

That rustled his feathers a little, and she smiled a little maliciously, every little bit of his sour stare poured wind into her sails, “I would advise you to lie back down but I don’t think you’ll listen.”

She stood back up from the frame and smoothed out the front of her pants a little awkwardly, “I made a stew...if you’d join me at the table?”

He barely stirred, his eyes now trained to the floor as he calculated his next move, but a cat was always faster, “Or perhaps I can bring the bowl here and feed you myself?”

He flinched, almost repulsively and she laughed a little, “That’s what I thought. Here, I’ll help you up.”

She moved deliberately and slowly, wading through the tension in the air, careful not to make any sudden movements as she reached his side. He looked about as uncomfortable as a snake backed into a corner, but she would not frighten easily. “Here, let me…” She dipped down and sat at his good side and guided his arm over her shoulder until she slipped into his side rather snugly. It felt so warm and so nice to nestle under such muscle and her stomach jumped a little at the feeling. She ignored the way his skin burned under her fingers, like gathering fresh pepper from her garden, and kicked herself a little for not having fetched him a shirt. “Ready?” She asked and steadied herself when he grunted in response. With her legs firmly planted and her hand tight around his waist she rose to her feet. 

The weight of him was intense and she stumbled a fraction before regaining her footing, letting a small nervous laugh escape her as she adjusted herself below him, “Don’t worry, I got you.” 

“Mhmm.” he replied, even without words it was laced with sarcasm. She ignored the trembling in her thighs as they buckled a little under his weight and trudged forward. If only she hadn’t trained on an empty stomach she’d have an easier time carrying him, she was sure of it.

“This way, mind the small step here.” She grunted, readjusting the hand she had over his wrist, trying desperately to ignore the useless thoughts that buzzed about in her head, like the size of his hands compared to hers.

She was tough yet gentle as she helped place him in a chair at the table. Quietly she poured him a bowl as well as a glass of wine, “Should give you water, but what the hell, you’ve made it this far, why not celebrate?”

He ignored her, tried his best not to make eye contact, “I should check on Ciri.” 

“She’s alright. She’s just outside with Cujo, my wolf. Let her drown her sorrows into a pelt for a little while longer, she’ll join us when she’s ready.” He seemed annoyed by the control she had in the situation, but with nothing else he could do, he let it be.

“Eat, please. It’s not the duchy’s rabbit stew, but it’s not half bad if I do say so myself.” The stew swarmed his senses, carved out the hollow space that was his stomach, but still he waited. 

“If I poison you, I don’t get paid.” She stated, sitting down at the bowl before her, unable to hide her hungry smile, “Besides, if I truly wanted you dead I’ve had many an opportunity by now, no?” and with that she dug into her dish.

He grunted more than sighed before taking a gracious spoonful of stew. Slowly, cautiously, he brought a spoonful to his mouth and smelled it. He hated to admit but on an insatiably empty stomach he smelt nothing but heaven itself. With a low snarl he swallowed a spoonful whole and closed his eyes with sweet satisfaction at the taste and the feel of it hitting the empty cavern of his stomach. He ate a bit more before he finally felt a little strength return, enough to broach the subject, “And how much are you expecting to be paid?”

He continued to eat, waiting for a reply before the silence annoyed him enough to steal a glance. She was staring off, as if the grain of the wood table was a puzzle to be solved. Her brows drew in and her mouth slid into a frown. With her snark and bite removed, he felt he was truly seeing her for the first time.

“Just enough to replace the food you’ll be eating. I never get guests, and my food stock was for me alone… while I have more than enough to go around right now, I will need to recuperate to survive the winter. Having 3 witchers under one roof will cut my supply down by a couple months in just a couple weeks, I’m sure.”

He smirked at her reasonable request, as if he could smell the lie as clear as the stew before him, “And what else?”

“That’s it.” She shrugged, stirring her bowl with a wanton dreamlike quality, surprising herself by her choice.

He wanted to be spiteful, bite back, push her over the edge till she clawed at him with the truth—the truth that she wanted all they had and more. And yet, he believed her when she said it. Perhaps he was too weak to spot the lie afterall.

The door opened and Ciri trudged in, wiping the remnants of tears from her pale face, eyes drawn to the floor.

“Hungry?” Y/N asked, and Ciri jumped a little in shock at the sight of the two of them sitting at the table together. If looks could kill, she’d have cut him with the razors edge of her narrowed gaze. “I’ll be eating in my room, thanks.”

As quick as the thunder of her stomping footsteps entered the room like a storm, they left with a bowl of stew in hand. Y/N expected the back door to slam shut but Ciri had enough wits about her to close it with care.

“You’re right Geralt.” She cut the silence like a rapier. He looked towards her, his brow furrowed and his mouth full of stew.

“What you said to Ciri earlier. You’re right. You have no reason to trust me, not just a stranger but a cat too boot. We’re bloodthirsty cutthroats, not enough money in the world could satiate our hunger. Or I was… many moons ago.”

His golden eyes, set a flame from the hearth behind her, danced from her eyes to the large scar on her throat. “I earned my freedom,” she smirked at the thought, eyes adrift in memory as her hand touched her throat. “I don’t walk that path anymore. I enjoy my silence and isolation.”

She was right. Her body was once sculpted by training, muscles lay thick under a softness that had since grown over it. Her curves ghosted over the edges of a witcher long since passed, and the scars and tattoos wrote their story. He liked it, more than he cared to admit.

“Quite frankly, I never wanted to help you. But Ciri was adamant, she’d do anything for you.”

His brow softened at that and she took it as a small win and continued softly, “She may be young, naive even, but she should trust her gut-- and so should you. I mean you no harm, for as long as you stay under this roof you are under my care.”

Her gentle tone sharpened, “And if you wish to leave, that is your choice. But I will not allow Ciri to follow, not while you are too weak to keep her safe. I can’t risk her life like that.”

She surprised herself by those words, averting her gaze under the uncomfortable weight of the vulnerability she laid bear. Not enough water in the world would cleanse her of the unease from her admission.

“I wouldn’t want that either.” He finally spoke, his voice a low rumble like a rockslide onto the shores of Skellige. “Thank you for the meal.”

“You’re quite welcome. Let’s get you back to bed.” She rose to her feet, noting just how much they ached, she couldn’t wait for sleep to take her.

He didn’t protest, didn’t glare, as she nestled into his side again and gently pulled his arm over her shoulders. Perhaps it was the wine, or how rattled her nerves were from prattling at the mouth about things she should not share, but her skin burned against the touch of his and her heart beat for the first time in a long time within her chest. With the force of her legs she brought him to his feet and began walking him to the back room, noting how well or not well his leg moved below him. It was when he stopped stepping that she brought her eyes to his, “Hmm?”

He stared past her to a door beyond, Ciri’s room, and his brow furrowed under the weight of the thoughts that plagued beyond them.

“I can talk to her if you’d like.” she offered.

“No...” He murmured, and she felt his voice more than heard it, as it reverberated through her. “It should be me.”

She corrected her course and brought him to lean languidly against the door frame and knocked.

“Yes?” Ciri called out, guarded for who might be awaiting.

“Are you done eating? Might I grab your bowl?” Y/N asked, grinning mischievously at Geralt.

“Yes, of course,” Ciri responded, and her footsteps could be heard as she gathered her things. Y/N didn’t wait, opening the door to Ciri’s surprise. “Thanks love.” She whispered, ignoring the betrayal on the girl's face at the sight of her Witcher resting in the frame and grabbed the bowl from her white knuckled grasp.

She left them in silence, busying herself in the kitchen with the dishes, moving to the bedroom to clear the linen and lay down fresh sheets for him to sleep on. She tried so hard not to listen in but the walls, tho made of stone and wood, could not keep a witcher from the sounds within.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” Geralt finally spoke. Ciri was caught off guard with his apology, wrapping her arms around herself in care, “Really?”

“I shouldn’t have lashed out like that, and I shouldn’t have let a ghoul best me so easily.” He struggled against the frame, adjusting a little to find a comfortable knook where there was none, “I endangered you, and the thought angered me. You made no mistake Ciri. I did.”

The betrayal that pulled angrily at her features dissipated, taking years off her face and before him was the little girl that looked so frightened as she raced towards his arms on that fateful day. She moved forward and hugged him, paying no mind to his injuries and he chuckled a little at her eagerness. “I’m so sorry Geralt. I was careless that day, and it nearly cost you your life. I promise to be more careful. But I’m right about Y/N, I know I am. Please, trust me.”

His hand hovered above her head, still a little uncomfortable with the fatherly affection that thrummed through his veins, until eventually it came to rest behind her head, brushing through her hair, “Alright Ciri, we’ll do it your way.”

She pulled back and beamed brilliantly at him, and he almost hated how good it made him feel, almost.

Y/N approached them, clearing her throat to make herself known, “Your bed is ready Geralt.”

He nodded and Ciri pulled from their embrace, “Goodnight Geralt.”

Y/N apologized under the breath for interrupting but neither seemed to mind. She slipped into his side, carefully silent as she kept her thoughts to herself. Hoping no one could hear how her heart swelled at the girls kind words.

It was somehow more difficult getting him onto the bed than it had been the chair but she did it with as much care as she could, listening intently for any groans of pain and protest. Finally he rested back against the pillows, comfortable in his placement.

“I left some water for you on the side table, please try and drink all of it by morning.” She turned and made her way for the door but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

“I’m not the first in your care.”

Her eyebrows flew a little and the unease that fluttered about her stomach all but flew away at the torrent of sadness that rushed to fill every inch of her body. “No. You are not.” She whispered so quiet the breeze outside might’ve carried it away before it reached his ears. Without turning back to him, she bid him goodnight and carried on. It took all her remaining strength to pass the threshold and close the door behind her without coming apart.

She crossed the room in large steps, clutching her hands to her mouth to quiet the sobs that threatened to emerge. Breathe, just breathe. She let out each breath slow and deliberate, trying her damndest to quell her pounding heart in her chest before panic truly flooded her veins.

It took a moment, a long moment until her breath fell into a normal rhythm and her heart finished it’s erratic sonet. The scratches at the door caught her attention and she opened it to find Cujo, grinning toothily at her as if he could see her walls crumbling around her as good as she could, “Oh shut it you.” She rolled her eyes and stepped aside for him. He whined a little, lovingly brushing up against her legs as he passed her on his way to the dimming hearth. She realized she forgot to grab a nightgown and cursed under the breath as the night chill blew through the crack in the door. After pressing the door closed and locking it, she curled up on the floor near the fire with Cujo nestled into her side, the softest pillow. “Goodnight… love.” She whispered drifting off before the words left her lips and the wolf yawned in response.

\---

The floor was unforgiving as she woke with a start at the loud bang came from the back of the cabin and the resounding ‘fuck’ that came after. Geralt. She scrambled to her feet despite the scream that came from her joints and ran to the room, apologizing to Cujo in her wake as he leapt to his feet in shock.

Geralt was on a knee, one hand clutching the bannister of the bed for support as his eyes trailed to her with shame broiling beneath their golden surface. “Are you alright?” She asked, racing to his side to help him to his feet.

“I’m fine,” He grunted, nearly swatting away her hands instinctively, “Just testing out the leg. It doesn’t work.”

She snorted, “I got you big guy.”

He was back on his feet in no time, though not exactly steady. She cautiously let go and moved to stand in front of him, assessing the situation. “There’s a healer in town, I could ride in today, see if they have some crutches for purchase.”

“No need, I’ll be walking by the end of the day.”

She smirked, eyebrow raising playful, “Sure you will.”

“Rough night?” He tossed back, a joke playing at the creases of his eyes. She gasped a little and her hands instinctively moved to iron out her day old clothing and hair, what she wouldn’t give for a mirror-- though perhaps it was better not to know.

“Rough week?” she countered spitefully, though it disintegrated rapidly with the grin that pulled at her lips. She moved to the armoire and pulled out a clean linen shirt though it looked a little ragged. “Washed and mended it for you, though you really should get a new one. Here!” She tossed it and his good hand caught it easily.

He tried his best to raise it over his head but flinched at the horrific pull from the closed wound at his side. “Shit, sorry,” She raced to his side, “Let me.” She brought the shirt up over his head, pulling each sleeve as low as possible for his arm to snake through. He hissed at the movement but winced a great deal less than he had before, it was a small win. “There.” she commented, pulling his hair free from the collar.

“Thanks.” He murmured stoically, and she wondered if he was measuring his gratitude. It’d be typical of a Witcher to tough this out, play it cool. She’d done that a thousand times herself.

“Let’s go, I’ll sit you in the garden while we work.”

He sat in a chair up against the front of the cottage while she worked in the garden. It was a quiet morning with yellow leaves dotting the grass and a cool chill that was new to the air. Autumn was coming. Before long Ciri joined, and they worked together to weed and water the plants, prep food for the day, feed the horses… every chore Y/N could think of until…

“Can we _pleaaaase_ train?”

“How on earth do you have any energy left.” Y/N huffed, sitting back on her haunches and wiping the sweat from her brow with a towel from her shoulder. Though the peasant dress she worked in laid her arms bare, the heat from exertion was becoming too much already.

Ciri just smiled with a glint in her eye and Y/N let out a sigh and acquiesced. As if Ciri was prepared since morning, she returned in a flash with her sword.

“Ah-ah, no sword work yet.”

“What-- but I--”

“We had fun yesterday, yes, but you’re weak. We need to condition your muscles to take on more force. Start with push ups in the dirt, squats, lunges, you know ‘em?”

She grumbled but nodded. “I want 12 of each, then a lap around the cottage. Do that thrice and we’ll see what happens next.” Ciri sighed and ran to an even patch of ground to begin.

“And you.” Y/N turned, locking eyes with the surprised Witcher, “Time to get you moving on that leg.”

She knelt down in front of him, “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, let me know if it’s too hot,” she looked up at him for approval and he braced himself and nodded. She moved the torn pant leg up to his knee to lay his leg bare, gnarled wound and all. After rubbing her hands together for friction, she placed them on his calf. They gradually began to heat, the outline of her hands glowing a dim red, “Is that ok?”

He nodded and she continued, changing her hand placement every few seconds until his muscles were powdered with small rouge hand prints, “I’m going to start massaging the muscle… this might hurt.”

Delicately she kneaded at the muscle of his calf, finding many a knot particularly close to the closed wound. A few times his hands clenched at the arms of the chair, and she wondered if it was the hot afternoon sun that bore into the flesh of her back or the glare he shot at her for the pain she caused.

“Alright, that should do it for now.” She spoke after finishing up his other leg, to balance out her work. “Let’s get you on your feet, we’ll try walking.”

She put her hands out, body betraying her as she gulped at how his large hands overshadowed hers. She pulled him to his feet and waited while he steadied upon the leg, “How is it?”

“Better.”

“Good.” She stepped back, their hands still clasped though it was difficult at this distance, “Take a step.”

Her eyes locked hard on his as he stared into hers with great focus. Despite how loose the shirt hung on him she could see how tense he was as he braced himself for the first step. His foot moved in the grass, but as he shifted his weight onto the wounded leg his face contorted in pain. It wasn’t graceful by any means but he recovered quickly by stepping his good leg forward and shifting the weight back. Y/N studied his expression, reading the lines of his furrowed brow for the shame and anger that broiled beneath. “Hey.” She spoke softly, “This will take time, but that was a good start.”

His back straightened and he took a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising with air and she stepped back to pull him towards her again. He made it a few more steps before he stumbled into her arms and she quickly recovered her balance by lowering her center of gravity, “It’s ok, I got you.”

He was warm, engulfing her frame in a messy embrace. Had he not been completely embarrassed for his moment of weakness, the moment might’ve been enjoyable. She pushed him back up onto his good leg and tried to smile warmly to reassure him but it came across like a panther with its prey. She was never very good at warm smiles.

“Let’s get back to the chair, this way.” She turned him slowly, with care, and walked him back to his place by the cottage. “I guess you were right after all Geralt, it’s barely midday and you’re walking already.”

He murmured a curse under his breath, rolling his eyes at her gesture. “Hey!” she grabbed the towel from her shoulder and hit him across the arm with it, biting her lip to stifle a triumphant giggle at the shocked glare it earned her, “Stop being so hard on yourself. If you want a beating I’ll give you one. I mean it.”

He gritted his teeth and stared her down, and she wondered if perhaps all Witchers had a problem with emotion after all. She wasn’t going to back down that easy and went in again with the towel as a warning, only this time he caught it in a fist, pulling her with it till she stood between his knees. She could feel his breath on her neck as she stood so close above him, and gulped at the heat that burned in their proximity. “Are all cats this belligerent?” He asked through gritted teeth and she retorted, “Are all wolves this insufferable?”

“Done!” Ciri called from across the yard, coming to a halt near the tree line.

Her piercing golden eyes lingered on his’ for a second too long before she called back, “Coming!”

She spun on her heel and walked away, leaving Geralt in her wake, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He fell back against the chair in exasperation, feeling a familiar yet uncomfortable feeling burning through his chest in her absence. 


End file.
